


bruised and better

by softlightwood



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: an andrew-centric look into his sparring sessions with renee, inspired by part four of son nefes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 11:10:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17099492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlightwood/pseuds/softlightwood
Summary: Renee finally asks, “how would you feel about the others sitting in on one of our sessions?”Andrew considers this. They take a few more swings at one another; Andrew manages to send her down to her knees with one arm twisted behind her back but makes the mistake of standing too close. Renee hooks her free arm back around Andrew’s own knee and finds a pressure point that turns his entire leg into jelly.From the ground, Andrew says “I do not care to spar with inexperienced idiots”Renee says, “neither do I, but I still spar with you”Or, the Foxes are cordially invited to watch Renee Walker hand Andrew Minyard his ass





	bruised and better

**Author's Note:**

> for a while i've been thinking _what if the foxes got to witness a renee/andrew session_ and then i read son nefes and it inspired me enough to churn this out in an hour. writing from andrew's pov is so interesting and i hope i did him justice here
> 
> enjoy!!

Renee Walker has something on her mind.

Andrew watches her closely as she methodically wraps her knuckles. From this angle, legs stretched out, hands wrapped firm around one foot to stretch out his thigh, he can see the expressions flitting across her face. He tilts his head away from her and switches to his other leg. The two of them are preparing to spar with one another, and Renee has been unusually silent ever since they arrived. Andrew doesn’t _care_ , is the thing. Whatever Renee is considering isn’t something she will ask his advice on, or want his pity over. Renee isn’t that stupid. The only reason for her to be mulling something over _this_ much, where Andrew is privy to her internal battle, is that it somehow involves Andrew himself. 

That isn’t enough to make him care, either, but the downward turn of her lips is starting to get on his nerves. He asks her, “ _what?_ ” and she startles just a little, enough to confirm that she wasn’t intentionally trying to provoke a conversation. She looks at him, brows scrunched for just a moment, and then her expression smooths out.

Whatever it is, she’s made up her mind.

She stands, and Andrew follows, and they begin circling each other – a cursory and almost theatrical introduction to their usual sparring sessions, performed only to give the fight some sense of order. Without it, the two of them risk tearing into each other a little too vigorously. Renee says, “I wanted to ask you something”

Andrew raises a brow at her, _then ask it_. Instead she lunges at him, and they grapple for a few long moments. His right leg sweeps behind her left to topple her but she regains her footing effortlessly, spinning out in an arc and catching him in the chest with the back of her elbow. He manages to grasp the bend of her arm and tries to use this leverage to flip her, like she’d been showing him, but he only half-succeeds. She chides him, mostly-playful, and then she says “how would you feel about the others sitting in on one of our sessions?”

Andrew considers this. They take a few more swings at one another; Andrew manages to send her down to her knees with one arm twisted behind her back but makes the mistake of standing too close. Renee hooks her free arm back around Andrew’s own knee and finds a pressure point that turns his entire leg into jelly. 

From the ground, Andrew says “I do not care to spar with inexperienced idiots”

Renee says, “neither do I, but I still spar with you”

Andrew never laughs, but it is a very close thing indeed. He knows well enough that Renee isn’t suggesting starting a fight club but pointless deflection is as reflexive as raising a hand to block one of her punches. “I assume you have a good reason?”

Renee considers him. Then she punches him. They spar for longer, this time, bruises unfurling fast around Andrew’s ribs and up Renee’s pale arms, covering their bodies in the language of restrained-frustration. “You and I have been bruising one another in this study room for long enough now that I had hoped the others would let it be, but Allison is still convinced that you’re pummelling me against my will”

 _As though anyone could pummel Renee Walker against her will_ , Andrew thinks. Still, his stomach twists sharp and sour when he understands that Renee’s bright idea is rooted in some misplaced concern for his reputation. Through clenched teeth, he reminds her, “I said a _good_ reason”

She says, “Andrew.”

He mocks, “ _Renee_ ”

She sighs, and she drops it, and she doesn’t bother to pick it up until the two of them are appropriately sore and sitting side-by-side against the far wall, icing the worst of their wounds. Andrew passes her the ice pack – an _instant snap_ one that Abby had provided Renee with and that the two of them had stubbornly avoided using in the other’s presence for a whole year – and Renee tells him, “it would stop them fussing over me, every time you do manage to land a punch”

The only response she gets is a flat look, but Renee is astute enough to understand the flicker of amusement there. Andrew thinks her excuse to be very flimsy, and assumes she must understand as much herself. Still, he tells her, “I am more than capable of besting any of them in a fight. It does my pride no damage to have them watch you put me on my ass”

Her laugh is a delicate thing that sounds wrong slipping out of a busted lower-lip. Andrew feels sorry to have accidentally caught her face with his elbow but he doesn’t have to bother verbalising that sentiment. They have a quiet understanding, which is that the face-area is off-limits for intentional punches, but their fights are not clean by any means. Renee knows already that he didn’t intend it, as he knows she didn’t intend to bruise his jaw last week. 

“Alright” Renee concludes, “is next week okay with you? Unless something comes up, of course”

 _Something_ , Andrew knows, refers largely to one of his usual inconvenient shutdowns and vaguely to any of Renee’s quieter ones. He gives her a nod, and she helps him to his feet, and together they reassemble the room in silence. 

Andrew doesn’t _care_ for the reactions of their teammates. 

_Except for one_ a quiet voice insists, and Andrew dismisses the idea of infuriatingly-blue eyes watching his every strike before it can even take root. 

He doesn’t _care_ , but it can’t make things _less_ interesting, so he will endure it. 

Exactly one week later, Renee approaches Andrew in the locker room and studies his face for any sign of discomfort. Part of him hisses that she won’t find any – a mask of apathy reveals no secrets – and part of him wants to be angry that she even knows what to look for. She seems satisfied with what she finds (or does not find) but still, she asks “okay?”

Peripherally, Andrew can see that Neil is tracking this interaction with idle curiosity. Andrew gives Renee a curt nod and, when she turns away, gives Neil a curt flick to the thigh. It earns him an eye roll. Andrew will let it slide. 

Clearing her throat softly, Renee asks “is everyone available right after this?”

Her voice is quiet and pretty as wind-chimes but she always seems to draw the attention of everyone in the room wherever she goes. Andrew is never impressed, but it is a very close thing. 

“Depends what for,” Matt tells her, looking a little glum. “I’m so behind on my Calculus that I can’t afford to party”

There are a few echoes to that sentiment, _me too_ and _yeah_ and _fuck finals, man_ but Renee holds up a hand. “No parties, just an hour of your time”

Allison taps a painted nail against the side of her phone. “Sounds ominous,” she says. “I’m in”

One by one the Foxes fall into agreement – little sheep, Andrew muses – and only Neil remains quiet, pensive by Andrew’s side. Knowing him, he’s already figured it out. Andrew can’t quite tell if he minds that, or not. Sometimes, being _known_ is exhausting. Being known by Neil Josten is a downright inconvenience, but Andrew is in far too over his head now. 

Neil shifts into Andrew’s space just enough to be noticeable, not enough to touch, and asks, “sparring?”

“Clever” Andrew remarks. Already he’s bored of his teammates speculating, and he needs a cigarette if he’s to deal with any more of it. Renee isn’t awfully fond of having cigarette-breath exhaled into her face during a spar, though, so Andrew knows he’ll have to cram one in now if he wants one at all. 

Not that he cares. Of course. 

Predictably Neil follows when Andrew takes off for the parking lot. _Nuisance_ , but Andrew still keeps him around. They trade a cigarette back and forth. Andrew holds an expectant hand out for his turn and Neil lifts the cigarette up and away, enough that Andrew fixes him with a stern look. 

Neil shrugs it off, _irritating_ , and asks “why now?”

Gesturing for the cigarette, Andrew indulges him. “Renee’s idea. Evidently she is tired of the assumption that I am the better fighter”

Neil grins, a pretty thing, and Andrew wants to wipe it off his face. “Ah. So we are all cordially invited to watch Renee Walker hand Andrew Minyard his ass?” 

“Fuck off” Andrew tells him, bored, and it only makes Neil smile more. _Idiot_. “Get in the car”

Distant thuds suggest the emergence of the rest of their team through the outer corridors of the Foxhole Court and Andrew tries to let the irritation roll away from him. Neil, who still hasn’t moved, considers Andrew with his head tilted like a stupid puppy. “Can I have a kiss, first?”

“I am never putting in effort ever again” Andrew tells him, remembering the way Neil had looked at him when Andrew rebounded Kevin’s shot on goal with such force that it hit the opposite wall and almost reached home goal again. Neil takes this as the assent that it is and steals one, two, three chaste kisses before the door to the court clangs against the brickwork. 

If Neil and his stupid mouth have Andrew wound so tight that he floors it for the first few minutes of the drive, well. Nobody else has to know. 

It occurs to Andrew, taking up the back of the procession of Foxes following Renee down to the empty study rooms, that none of them have realised yet what it is they’re walking into. 

Wary, Aaron asks, “you’re not tricking us into a group study session, are you?” and Renee’s laugh does nothing to confirm nor deny this. The room is seldom used by anyone else; the chairs are always in the same position Andrew remembers leaving them in last, and no one has complained yet that there are stolen gymnastics mats up against one wall. Content as Andrew and Renee may have been to fight on concrete, Abby had gently suggested that bruised bones made for bad Exy and so the two of them had _borrowed_ some gymnastics floor mats from the sports hall. Bruises were still aplenty, but at least it made for a softer landing. 

Andrew automatically begins stacking tables up against the side wall. Evidently his active participation in this mystery event is enough to startle the Foxes into stillness; they all hover by the door, a picture of confusion and uncertainty, while he and Renee step around one another to tidy up the space. Only when Andrew hefts a blue mat onto the ground does Kevin pipe up with, “is this where the two of you come to kick the shit out of each other?”

Andrew gives him a flat look. Allison’s neatly-plucked brows vanish up into her hairline. “is _that_ what this is?”

“ _Why_?” Dan asks. They all look to be settling at different stages of alarm. 

“I did not invite you here to fight any of _you_ ” Renee assuages, “simply to have you watch. I know you are all curious”

She moves to one of the table-stacks and drops her bag there, then slips off her long skirt to reveal gym leggings beneath. Neil makes the first move to sit, cross-legged a few calculated feet away from the makeshift _arena_. The others follow, cautious, and if Andrew was a person who laughed, he might have. 

“None of you would stand a chance” Andrew comments idly, then he considers for a moment. “Except maybe Boyd, if he finds his spine” 

Randy Boyd had trained her son well, after all, and Andrew was polite enough not to forget it. He did not clarify that it was _Renee_ they would not stand a chance against; they’d find out soon enough.

“Wow,” Matt says, “I’m…touched?”

Aaron snorts out a laugh, somewhere. Something always hums under Andrew’s skin at the sound, and he can’t decide yet what that is. He refuses to believe he derives any satisfaction in the outward expression of his brother’s happiness, so he relegates it to a minor irritation instead. Renee is wearing a full t-shirt today; unlike the vest she ordinarily wears. Curious, perhaps, that she doesn’t let her precious Foxes see the sharp, tattooed wings of her past nor the scars that dance around them. More curious still that she allows it to Andrew. Though, Andrew goes without his armbands in this room, on a good day. Perhaps it feels similar. 

“I should warn you,” Renee tells the group, as she finally steps up onto the mat beside Andrew, “that I don’t fight fair. And I would be insulted if _he_ tried to fight fair, so this isn’t pretty, but it is honest. When I tell you that we spar together, I mean that in the barest sense of the words. Perhaps after this you’ll believe me when I tell you we fight as equals”

“Equals?” Andrew asks her. They begin their cursory dance, circling one another, eyes sharp and too-focused. “It is not like you to lie”

Renee laughs cheerily. Then she feints a punch to the left, awaits Andrew’s dodge and swings up her right leg to kick him hard in the side. Andrew stumbles but regains it, quick enough to grab her by the ankle and pull. Dan mutters, “ _oh, Jesus Christ_ ” but Renee has always had the better balance of the two of them, yanking her leg back with enough force that Andrew stumbles forwards, his hands not relinquishing her leg fast enough to deflect the punch she lands at his solar plexus. 

Andrew wheezes, sharp, and Renee steps back to let him catch a breath.

“What the _fuck_ is going _on_?” Nicky asks, seemingly to himself. There’s a hum of assent from somewhere, and Andrew regards Renee with disdain.

“It is not like you to be polite, either” Andrew tells her. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have had the decency to step back. “What happened to _not fighting fair?_ ”

He’s goading her, and she knows it. They play this game, sometimes, usually when Renee finds herself clutching her faith too closely and allowing it to interfere with their fights. Often she needs Andrew to coerce her into putting all of her might behind her swings, and while it ends with him on his ass, she always quietly thanks him for it. 

“I thought I might try and preserve your dignity for a little while longer” Renee tells him, and this is instantly followed by a loud chorus of _Ooooooohhhhhh_ from their avid audience. She steps back into a fighting stance and continues, “but if you insist…”

From there on they fight as hard and fast as always, kicking and punching, errant elbows and intentional shoulders. Off to the side, the team are losing their collective minds. It doesn’t distract Andrew, particularly, but it reminds him that Renee is revealing parts of herself for no other reason than to alter their perception of _him_. It makes him grit his teeth and barrel into her with his shoulder, knocking her onto her ass for the first time that session. She lets out an _oof_ and then a short laugh, and Andrew realises that perhaps even _that_ reasoning had been a guise. He meets her eye, and she stares back, and he realises she’s almost as stupid about honesty as Neil is. 

Andrew’s thoughts linger for a second too long; he doesn’t register that he’s pinning her down in all the wrong places until he feels her dislodge one leg to jam a knee up into his thigh, hard. She rolls them over with a frankly impressive force and shows him how to _properly_ pin someone down – she sits across his knees, rendering his legs useless. His hands are above his head where they’d landed after an aborted attempt to fend her off. She has one forearm braced over them, but she isn’t touching him, isn’t actually pinning down his hands. It is an understanding. It is almost cockier than if she’d just pinned his arms down, because she knows that in respecting that particular boundary, he will respect the gesture as though she had _actually_ pinned his arms down and will concede the fight. Andrew accidentally meets Neil’s eye – Neil is sitting just within range, by Andrew’s head – and the stupid, glassy look in his eyes says he caught Renee’s gesture, too. 

“Well?” Renee prompts, when Andrew has stayed quiet for a beat too long. There have been bad days, days where Renee had bested him just like this and it had made him disappear deep into his own awful, blackened thoughts. He quirks a brow at her, _I’m still here_ , and then allows a short scowl. 

He has no issue with the Foxes seeing Renee hand him his ass, but…

“Are you going to say it?” Renee asks. “Or do you think you can break out?”

Andrew grits his teeth. He can’t break out – she knows this, he knows this. Andrew is a stronger fighter than the Andrew who first challenged Renee Walker, but she is far too good. She trained to fight, Andrew learned. That is the difference. 

Andrew huffs out an annoyed breath. “I yield”

Renee instantly shifts her weight off and stands, offering a hand to help Andrew to his feet. He takes it, aware that pettiness would only wound his pride further. 

Because maybe his pride is wounded _a little_. It would be a disservice to Renee if he left with pride intact, though, so he sucks it up. Renee pats him on the shoulder, once, gently. Andrew simmers at himself, at the idea that this casual touch is fine for him, at his softness, but it falls away faster than it had before and he’s left feeling…pleasant. 

And sore. 

As Renee heads for her backpack, Andrew considers his bruised knees and stretches himself out on the carpet a few scant inches from Neil’s criss-crossed legs. He allows his head to rest where Neil’s ankles fold over one another, only because he’s already allowed Renee to kick him into the gym mat, and this minute example of physical contact will likely be ignored in the grand scheme of things. 

Neil tips his head down to meet Andrew’s stare, an amused smile dancing in the blue of his eyes. Andrew huffs out a breath tinted with annoyance. 

“I don’t even know what to say” Nicky admits, finally breaking the careful quiet that had followed the end of their spar. “Renee, you’re a _badass_ ”

“Obviously” Andrew says. 

“She really kicked your ass, man” Aaron tells him, somewhere off to the left. There’s something like awe in his voice and Andrew dislikes it. 

Letting his eyes slip closed, Andrew replies, “I am still capable of kicking _yours_ ” and then he hisses when an ice-pack lands against his ribs, over his shirt. 

Renee sits cross-legged beside Andrew, her knees poking at the side of his leg. When he looks, he sees her smiling serenely, like she’s just finished praying. “Now do you believe me, when I tell you we fight as equals?”

“No” Allison says, immediate. “Of course not. Clearly, Minyard _sucks_ in comparison to you”

Dan’s laugh is sharp and bright. “All this time we’ve been worrying about Renee, and its Andrew we should be concerned for. Sorry, dude”

Renee gives Andrew one of her _looks_. It still tastes sharp and sour, acid on his tongue, that she even remotely cares about how Andrew is perceived. (That Neil does, too, because he’s even more of an idiot than Andrew gives him credit for.) There is a part of him that wonders if they are stupid enough to believe that this one display of weakness on his part will be enough to convince the rest of them that he’s got hidden depths, or whatever. Both of them know that he _hasn’t_ , for one thing. That he wouldn’t want to flaunt them at all, for another. He doesn’t _care_ , either way, because he knows that Andrew Minyard will always be the apathetic monster, the unpredictable weapon. That Allison will continue to regard him with disdain, that Dan will continue to glance between he and Neil and assume that Neil is too good for him.

(And Neil _isn’t_ good, but he probably is too good for Andrew. Good things come to those who wait, not those who break, and Andrew thinks sometimes he is beyond repair. Neil is inexplicably still around, though, and Andrew isn’t ready to clue him in yet.)

Regardless of what Andrew knows to be truth – that he is unchanged in their eyes - he also knows that hope is a stupid, dangerous thing but Renee and Neil both like it. He will allow them to have it, this once. Around him, his teammates chatter idly. Asking Renee to train _them_ \- she will not – and coming up with new, increasingly stupid bets. Renee is indulging them. Neil’s fingers are toying with Andrew’s mussed hair, and Andrew indulges him. 

Andrew feels strangely settled. Well. Maybe Renee punched him one too many times, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ softminyard


End file.
